


A Fistful of Stars

by jcrowquill



Series: Burning Orbits [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - Battle of Mustafar, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrowquill/pseuds/jcrowquill
Summary: Five years after Order 66, a growing band of rebel fighters struggle against Empire propaganda, bureaucratic inertia, and their own internal conflicts.  Anakin Skywalker, going under the name of Brenjam Terrus, is finding it harder to keep his secrets hidden in the face of increasing political pressure... meantime Obi-Wan is finding himself coming closer and closer to the dark side.(This fic takes place after A Mouthful of Ash, and some of the character developments won't really make sense without reading that first.)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Burning Orbits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/724941
Comments: 77
Kudos: 196





	1. In Media Res

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, my friends! :) This fic will be updated somewhat erratically, so if you're interested I'd recommend subscribing. 
> 
> Let's write some Star Wars!

**In Media Reis**

(Now, 5 years after Order 66)

As Anakin surfaced slowly from sleep, he tried to hold on to the last threads of his dream and bend it to his will. It was pointless because he was far too conscious already to believe it was real, but there were certain people he only saw in dreams. Right now, buried under utilitarian military blankets, he wanted to finish introducing his mother to the twins before the waking world took the image from him.

It didn't really matter if it was real or not - it felt  _ good _ and few things felt good anymore. And maybe, given his own strength and the nature of the Force, maybe there was something real about it after all.

Fully awake and up to his nose in his comforter, he drowsily placed himself - home, Yavin IV - and noted that Obi-Wan wasn’t beside him. He absently stretched out a hand and found that the sheets on the other side of the bed were cool, meaning that his lover had likely gotten up quite some time ago and let him sleep. It was a kind gesture, but it also left him a little lonely. 

Despite that he had enjoyed an unprecedented, almost unbroken string of nights beside his dearest friend, his constant, almost panicked need for closeness had not diminished. Even just months shy of thirty, Anakin remained an insatiable black hole when it came to love, affirmation, and physical contact. 

He sighed and reached instead for the small bottle of pills on the bedside table. They were a strong anti-inflammatory laced with a subtle, effective painkiller. Though his terrible injuries had healed and his prosthetics had been upgraded numerous times, shifts in atmospheric pressure still sometimes made the sheared bones ache. Age, he assumed, would eventually compound that pain… but in all likelihood he'd never live to grow old.

He shook a dusty pearl of the medication into his palm, then let it dissolve in his mouth. The slight effervescence and artificial sweetness was discordant against the sour morning taste on his tongue, making him wrinkle his nose and resolve to brush his teeth as soon as he was up.

This was just part of his morning routine. As usual, he rose and stretched, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, and then slipped into the ‘fresher to clean up and prepare for the day. He looked mostly the same as he had when his world had collapsed five years earlier, though subtle changes to his features had erased the unfinished look of youth and his hair had darkened to the golden-brown of dried autumn leaves. The shock of white hair at his temple hadn't gone away, though neither had the strange bond between himself and his former master that had caused it.

That bond hadn't changed either, nor had they truly explored it. If anything, they ignored the accidental life-bond between them, instead relying on the Force bond that they had intentionally built together. Standing in the little refresher as he shaved, Anakin could feel Obi-Wan through both. He wasn't far away, though he rarely was.

He stood dripping by the sink and shaved his fair, almost invisible stubble, then dried his long, half-metal body with a slightly scratchy towel, almost relishing how the cheap cloth felt on his bare skin. Excitingly, it felt coarse on the synthetic material that encased his original prosthetic, finally returning full sensation to the limb he’d lost at twenty. It had been a few months, but he was still delighted by the subtle weave of fabric on his shirt or the grain of faux-leather on his ship’s steering console. The way Obi-Wan’s hair felt between his fingers or how his stubbly cheek felt against his palm. 

How it felt to hold Leia’s hand.

He sighed and slipped into his clothes, then wrapped himself in his sturdy black pilot’s jacket, emblazoned on the arm with a styled firebird that represented the Rebellion. He never wore his Jedi robes now, so this new insignia felt like a designation of belonging. He  _ belonged  _ to the Rebellion. 

He belonged to Obi-Wan too, though his lover told him that he didn't.  _ Don't say that, Anakin. You don't belong to anyone except yourself. It seems like semantics, I know, but these distinctions are important.  _ But the way that Obi-Wan kissed him told him that he did belong to him, and the way that Obi-Wan watched at him when he thought he wasn't paying attention said that the reverse was true as well. 

It was nice. Despite everything, some things were still nice.

He ran his fingers through his unruly hair to style it, then yanked his snug boots onto his sleek metal feet. He'd already crushed the heels, which made them look more worn than their age, but he didn't really care. Though Obi-Wan doggedly polished his boots for him out of a desire for normalcy and order, footwear was more of a habit than a necessity for Anakin. He smiled to himself as he laced them tight, then straightened and gave himself a final once-over.

Yeah, for now he was Brenjam Terrus, one of the generals of the Rebellion and one of the galaxy’s biggest liars. For now, it was safer to tuck himself into another identity than publicly draw attention to the fact that Anakin Skywalker, hero and veteran of the Clone Wars, had survived. 

When he found Obi-Wan, his lover was scrutinizing a holo star map with two of the other officers. Knowing that he would be welcome, he slipped seamlessly into the conversation as though he had been there the whole time.

“-the density of Empire ships around Felucia has remained fairly constant,” the Mon Calamari general blustered, “It isn't feasible, General Vos.”

Cool and credible as ever, the still-roguish Quinlan Vos just raised his dark eyebrows. He was smooth as a Naboo fighter jet, but he had never been one to downplay his own tactical knowledge and flair for espionage; he didn't take kindly to a serious suggestion being dismissed out of hand.

“I understand that… but let's be clear, gents. The whole damn galaxy is covered with clones… and now ‘stormtroopers.’ Guys who actually thought this was all cool enough to voluntarily  _ enlist. _ I mean, some base-level Imperial presence is pretty standard these days - my point is that it's a good tactical move to disrupt their supply line, and between location and just-average security, it's a great place to be doing it.”

Anakin skimmed his better hand down Obi-Wan’s back, oddly comforted by the realness of his notched vertebrae beneath his fingers. His lover didn't lean into the touch, but he didn't pull away either. That was progress, really; it had taken a long time for the more reserved Jedi to allow any sort of public displays of affection. 

He did catch Anakin’s eye, though, and his quick smile was only for him. It stuck between Anakin’s ribs, and his heart skipped as he felt a pleasant warmth creep into his cheeks. 

_ How the fuck do you do that to me? _ He thought with an answering smile.

Someone who didn't know him would have thought that the Great Negotiator sounded cool and bright as ever, but when Obi-Wan spoke Anakin could hear that he was tired and frustrated.

“Master Vos does have a point - not only do we want the Empire to be disadvantaged - though  _ inconvenienced  _ is more realistically what we might be able to manage - we need these supplies ourselves. Medical supplies in particular. Black market ships and weapons are a druggat a dozen, but Force forbid that one wishes to  _ save _ a life rather than take it… legitimate bacta is Imperials-only and we can't afford smuggler prices.”

Resting his hand at the small of Obi-Wan’s back, Anakin agreed, “We’ve been dicking around with the idea of doing this for weeks - our fleet's limited and there's no way we can scope out the entire galaxy hoping for something better. If Vos thinks it's a good in, we should jump on it.”

Quinlan looked over at him and grinned, quirking an eyebrow. Anakin could almost feel a clever comment about oversleeping hovering in the air, but Vos just clapped him on the shoulder.

“Your best pilot thinks we could pull it off. So along with your top spy and your key strategist, that seems like it deserves some serious consideration, yeah?”

General Jrombet sighed weightily as though he was very tired and the conversation was requiring more energy than he had.

“I will discuss it with the council, but as you know I can't just act immediately on your wishes for major strikes.”

Anakin often found himself frustrated by the structure (and sometimes the lack of structure) within the Rebellion. While the three Jedi were Generals, the organization was crowned by representatives from the worlds that bankrolled it; many of the top decision makers were also now-powerless senators of the old Republic. The council was unified on the fact the the Empire was “bad,” they often argued just as much on the finer points as they had in the Senate. The inertia sometimes made the Jedi restless; there had always been Jedi Council oversight, but they had enjoyed a great deal more autonomy during the Clone Wars.

“Of course, General. We do understand,” Obi-Wan said smoothly, “Perhaps the three of us could present our intelligence to the council ourselves?”

Jrombet stroked the finer tentacles around his mouth thoughtfully, then nodded. 

“It couldn't hurt, Master Kenobi.”

Between Obi-Wan’s smooth talking, Quinlan’s sharp, seedy credibility, and Anakin’s earnest charisma, they had a much better chance of getting anything done if they spoke for themselves. 

“Well, obviously we wait on the council’s approval. In the meantime, we will continue to proactively gather resources and prepare for a more decisive move.”

From Obi-Wan, the polite agreement signaled the end of the discussion. He was pledging that the Jedi wouldn't misbehave, but he was not in any way promising that they would sit still. “Gathering resources” still meant scouting for surviving Jedi, stealing clones, and immersing themselves in the Empire.

“Thank you,” Jrombet acknowledged before excusing himself and leaving the three human men alone with the maps and their frustration.

“So, what’d I miss?” Anakin asked with a cheeky little smile.

Obi-wan groaned, reaching for his hand and briefly slipping his fingers between Anakin’s. 

“I’d scold you for sleeping late-”

“You let me-”

“-but in truth, it was just an extended version of what you saw and I am frankly  _ jealous  _ that you didn't have to suffer through it,” he laughed ruefully, shaking his head.

Vos stretched lazily and said, “Bunch of cowards if you ask me. Empire’s stealing scientists and recruiting idealistic hopefuls and starving families to pad their ranks. We need to knock them down before they get any bigger - we don't have time to be pussyfooting around.”

Anakin nodded his agreement; he tended to prefer action to talk and there had been a lot of talk lately from the Rebellion leaders. It had allowed them the opportunity to find a few Jedi who had been trying to survive the purges, though they were no one Anakin knew. From what they were learning, those who had escaped Order 66 were still being hunted and exterminated, despite that the galactic news no longer covered the continuing genocide. Imperial propaganda had painted a picture of the Jedi as power-hungry and subversive, intent on taking control of the Republic during the confusion of the Clone Wars; that story had gone unchallenged, though many across the galaxy had still sympathized with the all-but-decimated culture. 

There were a handful of Jedi among the ranks of the Rebellion. Caleb Dume, going under his alias as Kanan Jarrus, was just about twenty now and splitting his time fairly evenly between running a freighter as a Rebel pilot and studying under the three Jedi who had taken him in. Quinlan Vos and Obi-Wan were prominent members of the Rebellion and didn’t hide their identities as Anakin did. Obi-Wan was as clean-cut and recognizable as ever, and Quinlan had allowed his dreads to get long again. He no longer masked his distinctive yellow tattoos with makeup, preferring to die on his feet if it came to it.

Anakin envied their openness, but it wasn’t the best choice for him. Superficially, in his daily life, he was over what happened with Palpatine. He had taken responsibility for what he had done at the Temple and how he had nearly killed his wife and children. Deeper, though, the fear lingered because he knew both the Emperor’s sadism and his own weakness against the dark side. Years later, he still sometimes woke in a cold sweat from nightmares of murdering his lover or dismembering his family. Nights like that, he hid himself in Obi-Wan’s arms and tried not to broadcast his fears into the star-studded atmosphere.

There were other Jedi among them who would have felt his emotions within the Force if he had. Ezilpedu and Ezuwpono, identical Twy’lek twins who were younger than Obi-Wan and older than Anakin, had come to them with a shared Padawan. They had struck out with a Rebel ship and Rebel funds to search for others shortly after, and they had returned with a clutch of Younglings and two Crèchemasters who had been in transit to the temple on Tython when Order 66 had been executed. Hungry and without any resources at all, that group had gratefully returned to Yavin IV. Pollis Massa, the planet where the Skywalker twins had come into the world, had also become a touchpoint for fugitive Jedi, most of whom were eager to join the Rebellion if only because they were alone in the universe without the Order. All totaled, there were around fifty Jedi that had been accounted for, though a third of them were too young or too old to fight. All of them were hamstrung by the Rebellion council’s indecision and instead spent a lot of time training or trawling the galaxy for others.

Many of them knew who Anakin was, though no one questioned the name that he gave them. To them, he could be Brenjam Terrus as easily as anything else; they recognized him, but they didn't  _ know _ him. They didn't comment on his relationship with Obi-Wan, though he could feel their curiosity and their almost uncertain judgment. It was a different time, and though they held to the old codes and mantras they recognized that different things had become important in the aftermath of the Empire’s takeover. Whether or not two Jedi shared a bed was much less concerning than the daily dangers to their lives.

The life-bond between them, though, that was something else. The adult Jedi could undoubtedly feel Anakin’s Force signature on Obi-Wan, and that sort of connection was unnatural. He could feel their concern and he had, more than once, interrupted an unwanted question with forceful smalltalk.

He knew that Obi-Wan felt their silent scrutiny more keenly than he did and he wasn't entirely certain what questions he had deflected and what he had answered. His lover, who had always been considered a model Jedi, had taken several hard falls over the last few years. Though most of those missteps weren't public knowledge, the perfectionist keenly felt his failings and his deviances. Anakin had no doubts that Obi-Wan loved him, but he still sometimes wondered if the other Jedi considered that love a weakness or a fault.

If he did, he never acted like it. And at the moment, without Jrombet observing, he was sliding a warm, solid arm about Anakin’s waist and drawing him closer against his side.

“We have to be somewhat patient though, Quin. We’re reliant on their resources,” Obi-Wan said patiently to his agemate.

“Yeah, yeah,” Quinlan replied grudgingly.

Quinlan had some means of his own, unlike most of the other Jedi who had been cut off from their financial resources, but hardly enough to wage a war by himself. Like Anakin, Vos was visibly frustrated by their current inertia.

“I just feel like we’re on the edge of something big,” Vos added.

“As do I, but that doesn't change our unfortunate powerlessness,” Obi-Wan said with very eloquent sigh. 

Anakin leaned into his arm supportively, then asked, “So what are we going to do with our time?”

“Well, I've got some buddies on Ryloth to catch up with - said they had a lead for me that they didn't want to transmit,” Vos volunteered, “Could be a good one.”

“Or it could be a trap,” Anakin retorted, reacting to a twinge of protective annoyance.

“Indeed. Would you care for an escort?” Obi-Wan added.

That just made the sturdy Jedi laugh. 

“No, but thanks. I'm good,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “It's a little hot in that quadrant for three top-level Rebel generals to be palling around together… and anyway, you two have other shit to do. If we’re not prepping for a strike, you may as well troll the Cadet Crawl.”

The Cadet Crawl was a training route used by the Imperials between several of the academies. They were mostly staffed by fresh cadets who were learning how to manage themselves and a large ship. They trained and patrolled a fairly quiet stretch of void, practiced maneuvers, and hoped not to encounter anything too nasty.

Even though they were professional-level ships with adequate armaments, the collective experience on the ships was low. While often trained by clones, the new breed of Imperial soldier was not up to the same standard. If they had been colder men, the Jedi would have used the training patrols as an opportunity to wipe out fledgling soldiers before they could become formidable adversaries, probably scaring off some of the potential recruits as well. 

That would have been an unforgivable act of war, though, and it would have also served the purpose of whipping up the more jingoistic Imperial supporters for the “assault on their way of life.” The rebellion was in a precarious position of courting public favor; certain parts of the galaxy were enjoying a very comfortable bump-up in quality of life and accumulation of wealth, even as “lesser worlds” were being enslaved or stripped of their resources. At this stage, success was dependent on very tactical public relations.

In any case, the key objective in buzzing the Cadet Crawl was hacking the comm and positional systems on the poorly-manned ships. If they could steal some supplies or get some intel on new weaponry, that was just a bonus.

Anakin perked up a bit at the prospect; he loved the tricky flying that it required to get close undetected. 

“That sounds like a good use of the next rotation or two,” he said brightly.

Obi-Wan nodded in slightly distracted agreement, less enthused but still extremely willing. 

“We could take the  _ Single Star _ ,” Obi-Wan suggested.

The  _ Single Star _ was their original ship from their flight from Polis Massa several years prior. Though it had been upgraded several times over since, it still wore its flashy black-violet paint job that looked like the sprawl of distant stars across darkness of space. Coupled with some smuggler-grade cloaking and a retrofitted engine, it was a quirky, stealthy little monster that suited both their personalities and their purposes. 

“Works for me,” Anakin said agreeably, grinning, “I'm flying.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and Quinlan just laughed, “Yeah, you boys have fun. I'll bring you back a souvenir. Maybe a t-shirt. Or you know, I've heard they make really good liquor, though I think humans need to boil it first to neutralize the-”

“Intel’s enough for me,” Obi-Wan interrupted with a playful smirk, “And our  _ top spy _ in one uninebriated piece.”

“I don't think that's a word, Kenobi.”

“It's a big galaxy, I'm sure it is somewhere.”

Anakin snorted and laid his palm against the small of Obi-Wan’s back again. The older Jedi looked up at him as if challenging him to argue, then added.

“In any case, you catch my meaning.”

“Yeah, that you're the karking  _ mother hen  _ of the Rebellion-” 

“Go kriff yourself,” Obi-Wan retorted mildly.

Quinlan grinned, delighted, “I'll call you up before I make contact and again after, will that make you feel better?”

“Much.”

Within a few minutes, they had transferred their goodbyes to the corner of the primary hangar. It was simultaneously more full and more empty than Anakin would have liked to have seen it; there weren't as many ships as he felt the base deserved, but they were mostly  _ there.  _ Not scouting the galaxy or engaging in combat. Just sitting and practically gathering dust as the Rebellion council diddled themselves in debate sessions.

“We got those new-model bore-droids to try out this time! I'm PSYCHED!” Anakin said cheerfully as he settled into his seat at the console. It felt good to be getting off-planet; though he loved to have a home to return to, he had a hard time staying still when there was so much to be done. 

“We have fifteen of them, so I figure we can either try one ship and risk redundancy or we could try multiple ships and give ourselves more opportunities to get shot,” Obi-Wan mused, pulling up the technical specs on his holopad.

“How are they grouped? Threes? Fives?”

“Ah… five sets of three,” he confirmed as he absently flicked several switches and dials, his eyes still on his tablet screen. “These have had a very nice little upgrade.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Smaller entry point and cleaner weld, and these will also connect themselves to a power source if they can so they'll transmit for longer. Theoretically indefinitely,” he summarized, flicking his gaze over to Anakin to see his reaction to the news.

“That's pretty cool. Way better than those old comm-spikes that they were using a couple years ago…”

They maneuvered out into the open air, taking off slowly as they always did. For some reason, they both liked to look at the base - their home and safe haven - from above for just a moment longer than necessary. Just as smoothly, though, Anakin kicked the ship into gear and shot cleanly through the atmosphere.

Once their coordinates had been set, Anakin flicked the controls to auto pilot so he could make a quick circuit of the cabin. He realized belatedly that they should have checked it over  _ before _ they left, but he was confident that their ship had remained unchanged since the maintenance he'd performed after their last excursion. 

All of the instruments were reading normal, and no tell-tale lights were glowing orange in the half-light of the cockpit. Rather, the readouts and LED indicators were casting soft, ambient light or twinkling like steadily blinking fireflies in the background. Anakin had always liked this ship.

Satisfied that everything was prepared, he confirmed the jump to hyperspace. Holding on to one of the handles built into the wall to brace for the initial change in speed and pressure, he leaned over to the radio and twisted the tuning knob in search of some good music. 

Broadcasting through the hyperspace byways was always strangely clear, and often it was possible to pick up stations from much further away than might otherwise be possible. The first station was talk radio, the next played music that hadn't been popular since long before either of them had been born. After that, it was several evangelical stations, some that played music on frequencies that human ears couldn't detect, then a station with pop music from the inner rim. The tone of music had changed in the last few years; there was propaganda and then struggling efforts at normalcy. There were boy meets girl, girl meets girl, boy meets tentacle creature, etc, just as always… but they had a slightly softer, rebellious tone to the lyrics, a wounded edge. A little bit of “baby maybe this isn't forever but it'll get us through.” There were songs against the Empire but they didn't get much air time even in the outer rim. 

“Hey, dance with me,” Anakin said, grinning at his seated lover.

“To this? This is terrible.”

“Nah, it's got a good beat, catchy tune.”

“We need to mind the ship, Anakin; we are traveling several parsecs, you know.”

“SS’s got it. We don't need to pay attention till we get closer. Come on, dance with me, Obi-Wan.”

When the other Jedi didn't immediately rise, Anakin took his holopad away and bodily dragged him to his feet. Obi-Wan grumbled good-naturedly as Anakin pulled his arms around his waist. 

“We’re away from everybody, nobody’s watching, so you’ve got no excuse,” he pointed out, snugging him up close and draping his arms comfortably around his neck. 

“Excuse? My objection is to the music.” 

Obi-Wan stretched out one hand almost lazily to continue turning the tuner with the Force, seeking out a station playing something he deemed more appropriate. 

“I’m not going to bump and grind like we’re in some sketchy nightclub six levels below the streets of Coruscant.”

Anakin rolled his eyes at his faux-prude lover, hearing the joke in his voice. He leaned down and kissed him lightly on the mouth, feeling a surge of relief at the warm closeness in the gesture. It was stupid, really, but sometimes he could feel physical distance between them almost as though it was a tangible wall keeping them apart. This was the first kiss he had received this morning, despite the light touches and glancing contact, and it felt like his first deep breath.

He relaxed further when Obi-Wan lingered close and traded him another kiss in exchange for the first. He was surprised to find himself appreciating the song that his companion had settled upon. It invited that comfortable, loosely structured box-step that allowed him to keep his arms comfortably around Obi-Wan and hang dotingly upon him. 

> _ ♪...and when I first saw you under the city lights of Coruscant _
> 
> _ (the city lights, the city lights) _
> 
> _ The stars were bright, _
> 
> _ but we couldn’t see them for the city lights of Coruscant _
> 
> _ (the city lights, the city lights) _
> 
> _ Bright as as day, shining, you looked my way…♪ _

It was an older song, one that Anakin remembered hearing on the radio when he’d been a child. Sometimes they’d hear people singing it in ports, or in dusty bars as they traveled. It was a standard; it had been popularized several times over by different performers and revived every decade or so, genders and species swapped numerous times. Some variations had a traveler falling in love with a dancer in a club, some had a soldier falling in love with a friend who he was seeing differently in a new place. There were many versions, but it was always the same melody and it was always about feeling something for the first time and being swept away by  _ someone _ who was brighter than all the lights in Coruscant, which were already brighter than the stars in the sky. Anakin had always thought it was very romantic. Swaying rhythmically to the music, he was a little annoyed to feel the ball joint in his left ankle was slightly out of position, but he could ignore it for the moment. 

He sang a couple lines of the song in a quiet, self-conscious and completely off-key murmur; whether to reward him or to quiet him, Obi-Wan kissed him and pulled him closer. Anakin could feel a thrill of warmth through the bond they shared. Sometimes when he felt that way, he wanted to just take his lover and run off to the most remote part of the galaxy and pretend to be normal and safe.

After trading a few kisses, Obi-Wan pulled away, “You need to attend to the flight path, General.”

As much as Anakin wanted to protest, he knew that his former master was right. And in fairness, if he was honest with himself, this was both a stupid thing to do and a stupid time to be doing it. What kind of idiot insisted on dancing with his partner while traveling thousands of miles per second? 

Well, kriff it. He was done feeling foolish for needing these moments or caring about his personal life just because there was a war going on; they could die any moment and opportunities like this were both finite and invaluable. Moments like this were what he was fighting for.

Sensing that stubborn line of thought, Obi-Wan kissed him one more time before slipping out of his hold. All business, all the time, even now. But still, he  _ had _ given Anakin that extra kiss, and Anakin noticed that he was smiling now as he settled back into his seat.

“Yeah, sure, Master Kenobi,” he said with a self-satisfied laugh. They still had another 10 minutes in hyperspace before they even had to worry about enemy ships. If they planned this right - and Anakin was pretty sure they had - they would be just out of range for detection when they exited the byway. Once they dropped back into visibility, they could immediately cloak their ship and get onto the path of the Cadet Crawl. Most likely, they would find one of the big, heavy-looking destroyers within a half-hour’s flight.

Training courses were wonderfully predictable that way.

“We didn't have to cut that quite so short,” Anakin pointed out good-naturedly.

“It's too easy to lose track of time with you,” Obi-Wan told him, an easy compliment in the words even as he logged in to the weapons system again to prep their payloads of bore-droids.

“Pfft,” Anakin acknowledged, watching his lover’s deft, calloused fingers move over the screens. “You're full of excuses.”

“Is that so?”

“Sure is.”

“You make it sound as though you're terribly neglected.”

“I am, master, I am,” Anakin replied innocently.

“And I never pay attention to you.”

“ _ Never. _ ”

“And I certainly never kiss you or tell you how you grow more handsome by the day.”

“No, master, not that I can remember.”

“And I've definitely never crushed you against the mattress, spread your thighs, and made you come so hard you've thought you could literally see the Force.”

Anakin blushed at that and sucked in a considering breath. It drove him crazy how Obi-Wan could just say things like that off the cuff, unbothered, as though the words didn't spark images behind his eyes. It was absolutely maddening sometimes how Obi-Wan could draw from a seemingly endless well of dirty words and licentious acts, and just  _ say them _ without stuttering, like he was just talking about the weather. In that stupid, perfect voice with that perfect, precise Coruscanti accent that made anything and everything sound respectable.

“Ah, no. Memory fails me,” he managed with a self-conscious laugh.

Obi-Wan chuckled, “It must be difficult to be so unappreciated in your daily life, my dear friend.”

Anakin snorted, still blushing, and brought up the ship's cloaking when they exited hyperspace. Happy to have a task to distract him from just how much he wanted to wipe that smug smile off of Obi-Wan’s face, he configured scans to search the area for large-scale cruisers. Fortunately or unfortunately, being top dog in the galaxy meant that the Imperials didn't really bother to hide where they were or what they were doing. 

“I suppose you can  _ appreciate _ me later.”

Anakin thought that was a nice, cool response. It made Obi-Wan smile, even if he did snort a little.

“Are there any ships on the Crawl, Anakin?” he asked breezily.

“Two. The closer one is probably 500 away, further is closer to 2000,” Anakin said, doing a lazy measurement from the readouts, “We can probably zip close and then just creep the last few clicks once we hit field visibility.”

“Excellent. Let's do that,” Obi-Wan agreed. He reached across the space between their seats to take his hand briefly, then gave it an affectionate squeeze before releasing it. The new synthetic covering felt almost like skin and muscle, and Anakin still noticed how real it felt every time.

“Yeah… I'll fly, you handle the payloads?” Anakin asked, feeling just a little warmer and a little more lovestruck than he had a moment ago. It was strange how even years later, he often felt just as doting and occasionally awestruck at his good fortune as he had in the first months that they were together.

“I think that suits our respective skills best,” Obi-Wan confirmed, turning his attention briefly to the front glass and then his screens. “I do so enjoy watching you fly.”

Anakin grinned at the praise, then punched the ship into gear. It was dull flying, just going in straight line with a few lazy maneuvers to dodge debris. Most of space was a lot of nothing; Anakin didn't know how people who weren't Force-sensitive managed to travel without getting terribly disoriented. 

He gradually increased his speed, thinking how the increased pressure on his body was the only real indication of their mounting velocity; the stars and other landmarks seemed fixed in the horizonless void. Eyeing the map, he estimated the point where they could cut the engines and coast. The lack of friction on the hull meant that they would slow gradually enough that they could approach the Imperial cruiser without any telltale engine noise on the scanners. Speed-drifting was the most logical way to get close without identifying themselves as manned ship themselves. 

All at once, a tiny spec appeared in the distance and began to grow larger as they glided soundlessly closer. There was always something impressive about Imperial star destroyers, even the smaller ones. Their own ship measured 19.2 meters in length and was crewed comfortably by 2; the ship they were approaching, which they had mistakenly identified as a cruiser, was over 600 meters long.

“ZD-9300?” Anakin guessed. 

“Looks like one.”

Anakin knew the blind spots for many of the major classes of Imperial ship. Many had been used by the Republic, so he knew their technical details. Design specs for many of the newer ships had been leaked to to Rebellion as well, leaving few enemy ships a complete mystery. Anakin had always been a nerd about ships and their internal systems, so memorization was easy and enjoyable. As much as he hated to be on this side of the turrets, he couldn't help but appreciate their adversary’s fleet.

At the moment, with the engines off and relying only on momentum and steering, Anakin was working to maneuver to the best point to launch their bore droids without detection. It was the sort of piloting skill that most sentients could never attain, but Anakin wasn't even nervous. It was just something that needed doing; Obi-Wan, absolutely confident in his fellow Jedi’s ability, wasn't even watching as he instead put his full focus on targeting the ship through the guidance systems.

They both felt the right moment, through a combination of the Force and their extensive battlefield experience. 

“Steady…” Obi-Wan murmured, as much to Anakin as to himself. He lined up his shot as though he were going to blast a hole in the hull, then launched a round parcel.

They held their breath, watching as the outer shell shattered on impact with the hull of the ship, freeing the three droids along with the gel that had protected them. It was an imperfect release, leaving one of the spider-like droids trapped in the gel when the frigid nothingness of space froze a glob around it. It bounced harmlessly off the glossy hull and drifted off into the void.

The other two connected themselves to the sleek metal and held fast. Almost immediately, they began to drill through the paneling, making holes just large enough for them to slip inside. The metal was nearly a foot thick and made of top-quality materials, but the droids were made specifically for hull breaches. Within seconds, they disappeared below the surface. Shortly after that, their entry points glowed red as they welded the holes closed. The round scars in the metal, about nine inches across, looked like any of the small, pitted craters left in the hull after micro-collisions with space debris.

Still drifting with the engines in neutral, the Jedi were left behind as the destroyer passed them by on its route. Their ship, cloaked and cold, wouldn't even be recognized as anything carrying sentient life.

Anakin grinned at his former master, “Nice shot.”

“Excellent dead-coasting,” Obi-Wan returned with an answering smile. “We can linger here for a few minutes to see if they successfully implant.”

Anakin nodded his agreement, “I suppose if we’re lucky enough for this to actually work the first try, we could buzz the other ship.”

“You shouldn't sound so surprised, Anakin. We’re very good at this.”

Anakin couldn't deny that the two of them were an ideal team. With the exception of a few horrible months, they always had been. As tricky as these intel-related missions could be, there was no aspect that didn't fall under one of their skill sets. Both could fly, both could shoot, both could fight. Each had specialties that complemented the other’s.

“We are,” he agreed enthusiastically, leaning across to steal a kiss.

He didn't have a chance to connect before the console in front of his intended target beeped importantly.

“Oh… that was fast. BD-7CO is already online… that must have been exactly the right entry point,” Obi-Wan said in surprise, turning his attention back to the screen.

The droid had no doubt scuttled through the gaps between the hull segments that allowed the metal skin to expand and contract slightly with temperature fluctuations. From there, it had hooked into the communications systems where it was now siphoning power and data from the ship's primary systems, all the while remaining undetected. The Rebellion’s high-end technicians and hackers would be able to mine information and access Imperial data stores through them.

“So do we want to try another? Try to stick two on the Crawl?” Anakin asked, sighing when he lost his companion’s attention to the droid’s initialization protocol.

“We’re out here; we may as well.”

“How ambitious do you feel? Want to board, maybe, try to steal something fun?”

Obi-Wan laughed, “We do have appropriately-sized trooper armor we could wear… but… probably not this time.”

“You're getting boring in your old age.”

To Anakin’s annoyance, though not to his surprise, Obi-Wan didn't rise to the bait. Instead, the graying Jedi just raised an eyebrow at him in a slightly challenging way.

“Then want to stop off for something to eat, maybe walk around a bit?” Anakin huffed.

“Are you stir-crazy, darling?” Obi-Wan asked drily. Anakin knew that ‘darling’ used this way wasn't a real term of endearment; his lover was teasing him.

“Yes!” he said emphatically as he re-engaged the engines. “I want to  _ do _ something.”

What he wanted wouldn't be satisfied by food or walking among other sentients in one of the many spaceports. Really, even making off with Imperial supplies or taking out a handful of Storm Troopers wouldn't have assuaged the thirst he felt. It was the same weary, undirected aggression that had crept up on him as the Clone Wars had dragged on with no end in sight. He wanted decisive action that would end the powerless inertia. 

As he got older, he realized that he needed very few things to be happy, and almost all of those things were people. Sure, he had grand fantasies of teaching his children to use the Force, of Padme becoming Chancellor and leading the galaxy into a new peace, of watching Obi-Wan head up a Jedi Council that wasn't hopelessly enmeshed in Republic politics. He could be happy without the fulfillment of those grandiose visions, but at the moment even the bare minimum felt impossible. It was too easy to focus on the fact that he hadn't seen his children in a month, that Padme was still publicly “dead” and posing as a handmaid to Breha Organa, and that Obi-Wan was one of the most wanted men in the galaxy.

He was stronger and smarter than he had been the last time he'd felt this way; he wouldn't let his desire for safety and normalcy consume him. That didn’t mean he didn’t need to let off steam.

“We could check the major marketplace on Taris and see if we can pick up any light sabers or kyber crystals?” Obi-Wan suggested, “Maybe check in with Kirik for a status on the bank hack.”

After Order 66, all of the Jedi Order’s lands and assets had been either frozen or transferred to the Empire’s consolidated wealth. Recently, Quinlan had started to explore the possibility of liberating some of those funds (as well as some that had never belonged to the them) to reestablish the order, care for its surviving members, and build their own defenses independent of the Rebellion. He always seemed to know someone who knew someone, and through that network they had dug deep to find a very dedicated, talented little band of ‘data procurement professionals.’

“They only like to talk to Vos,” Anakin grumbled.

“Like to, but they'll speak with either of us.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe we can try that, but let's get this done first. If we can get two in a row, I’ll consider it a lucky sign from the Force.”

“How about we plan a celebration for the Force’s favor?”

“I'm already gonna kriff you as soon as we’re back on solid ground, I don't care if we miss every shot,” Anakin said cheekily.

“As enjoyable as that will no doubt be, it's hardly a celebration if it's a forgone conclusion.”

“I'm not sure if that's flattering or insulting.”

“What do you want to do if we succeed?”

_ I want to see the twins and I want you to come with me. I want to see everyone I love at the same time. It's been awhile since it's been all five of us. _

Even though he was sure, Obi-Wan would come if he asked, it was a bad time. Alderaan was in the midst of some festivities that the Emperor was attending as a guest of honor. The security was too high and he and Obi-Wan were too recognizable.

“I want to go out, somewhere nice. I want you to dress up and I want us to act like we’ve already won,” he said instead.

“You usually hate dressing up.”

“I said  _ you _ dress up-”

“Not alone!” Obi-Wan laughed, “And I want to see you dressed well with your hair combed-”

“It's combed right now!” Anakin protested, laughing and dragging his fingers back through it. It had gotten rather long. 

“So we’ll dress up and go out, all right,” Obi-Wan said, sitting back comfortably in his chair to wait as they approached the second ship.

“Yeah. Hang on - killing the engine…”

As he powered down the ship and once again entered the precarious drift-piloting mode, his thoughts strayed again for just a moment. The Force pulled at him, again tugging him back onto the path and prompting him to correct his trajectory. It was strange, but today it actually felt like the Force wanted them to succeed; it gave him a boost in confidence, which also once again took the edge off of his frustration.  _ This war will end. _

He swung the ship on a tight parallel to one of the ship’s many blindspots, keeping the glide smooth. Like clockwork, Obi-Wan timed his shot to the exact moment that Anakin himself would have fired if he had been on the guns. As he did, though, they both felt a shift in the Force; without thinking, Obi-Wan fired again, adjusting the angle slightly.

The first parcel hit exactly right, but the droid deployment was all wrong; the protective gel froze around them too quickly, sending the ball of icy chemical and motion-locked droids skittering across the hull before bouncing harmlessly off into the void. The second shot hit at a strange angle, but the force of the impact sent the gel splattering outward, freeing the droids at the point of contact.

All three managed to grip the slick paneling, though one registered damage to its drilling mechanics. It inched closer to one of the other droids, which had already started to bore its way through, and exchanged this information. The other droid paused and conferred at inhuman speed with the damaged droid, deciding whether it was more logical to work cooperatively or for it to jettison itself into the void to avoid detection. With a beep that neither aboard the ship could hear, they agreed on a course of action. The functional droid drilled into the ship, leaving the path behind it open, and the damaged droid followed after at a two second delay and closed the way behind them.

“All right…” Obi-Wan said, watching the readout as they drifted past and were rapidly left in the starfield behind the fast-travelling destroyer. 

“Not the first shot, but… still probably worthy of celebration.”

“The engineers need to fix the cushioning gel. That’s 4 droids we lost. A third of them! That’s terrible odds,” Anakin huffed, “That wasn’t us.”

His companion laughed softly, “No… we did our part near perfectly… And out of those three, I’m sure at least one will manage to breach the comm systems. Shall we head back?”

Anakin watched the screen, waiting for it to light up with the confirmation of Obi-Wan’s words. When it didn’t, he reminded himself that it could take time for the droids to find a relay and to work their way into the system. Even if they failed to do so, they had still successfully compromised the first ship. At this point, this was just gravy.

Still, over the last almost-twenty years, he had picked up a bit of his former master’s perfectionism; he wanted to go home with a perfect score. Even as he scolded himself that this wasn’t an arcade game, he waited impatiently, hoping fervently for the initialization data to flash across his companion’s screen.

_ Come on _ , he thought irritably.

_ Come  _ **_on_ ** _. _

_ Come ooooonnnnnnnnn. _

As he reluctantly reignited the engines, the telltale beep and whirr of data issued from Obi-Wan’s control panel. He grinned, pleased. The Force  _ was _ on their side, and this war was going to end in their favor. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.”


	2. Roadtrip

**Roadtrip**

(5 years ago, several months after Order 66)

Order 66 and his subsequent traumatic injury, the passage of time had felt inconsistent and untrustworthy to Anakin. There had been days that had passed in a haze of pain, weeks that had sharpened to the photographic detail of anger or boredom, blinding instants of clarity, moments of love or despair so intense that time had stopped entirely. As he had rediscovered himself and peeled back the layers of his own secret history, stripping himself bare to face his fears and understand his love, the universe and his place in it had snapped back into focus. 

He was Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and his place was in opposition to the newly formed Empire and the Sith at its helm.

That place was also beside Obi-Wan Kenobi, his beloved companion who had finally, finally admitted that he loved him in spite of his Jedi vows.

Despite that confidence and the complete faith in his path forward, there were still things that he needed to learn and parts of himself that he needed to learn to control. There were things that he needed to learn and pass on to Obi-Wan because his former master was too stubborn and too afraid to admit to his own brief trespass into the dark. Though it had been a difficult decision, and even more difficult to follow through, travelling and training with Quinlan Vos had been the best choice.

One thing that Anakin could say for travelling with Vos was that it was uncomplicated. Unlike his former master, Vos was straightforward and devoted little energy to moderating his tone or withholding his opinions about Anakin, Obi-wan, or the state of the Empire. Though Vos frequently rubbed him the wrong way, he did know where he stood at all times and that was refreshing in its simplicity. 

Also refreshing, he could snap back with a degree of crass vitriol that he never would have dared with Obi-Wan, who would have verbally eviscerated him and then ignored him until he grudgingly apologized. His arguments with Quinlan were quick and sharp, but then they were over and both men just moved on like rolling storms.

So far, they had sniped over Ventress, over each other’s respective defections to the dark side, over Obi-Wan, over Caleb, over Vos’ psychometric exploration of Anakin’s personal history, and over basic daily travel chores. Ironically, politics were the only thing that they agreed on.

They had managed deeper conversation about several topics as well, but Anakin was still finding himself unable to open up to the other Jedi despite knowing he had to do so in order to move forward. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just let things go and focus on the task at hand; instead, the same arguments, phrased differently, came up every time.

“You’re still holding on to a lot of anger,” Vos told him while they waited for their food at an empty diner in the Kittaveda III starport. “You’re not letting me in.”

“You haven’t exactly apologized.”

“For what, exactly?”

“Snooping. Kriffing Obi-Wan.”

They had argued about this before, exactly. Anakin half-regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth, but not enough to try to take it back. Instead, he waited to see if this would be the time that the man across the table would say something different.

“Well, I'm not going to apologize for kriffing Obi-Wan. It's none of your karking business,” he said with a derisive snort, carefully taking a sip of his too-hot, burnt-tasting caf.

“It is so my business.”

“It's actually not, and it has nothing to do with you and I, or what we’re doing here. If you want to demand exclusivity, that's between you and Kenobi. If you want an apology for me handling your lightsaber, fine. I'll apologize for that. I didn't mean to get into it, initially. I just took the saber and got whomped with your little Mustafar adventure on contact.”

“You could have stopped there.”

“Not really. I had to know if I was out to help you or out to kill you. I wanted to think there was a way back for you. You were a good kid and your master is crazy about you… I couldn't figure out what was going on.”

Anakin didn't have a good response; he understood why the older Jedi had made the choice to delve into his lightsaber’s history, but knowing that didn't make the violation of privacy any less mortifying. He knew that he would have done the same thing if he'd had the ability, and even now he wished he had a similar way into Vos’s mind. All the same, he wanted to fight about it and hold it against him forever, but didn't know how he could when Quinlan’s reasons made so much sense.

He knew that he couldn’t just keep going around and around on this argument, especially when he did understand so clearly what Vos had been trying to do. Especially now that Vos had actually apologized. He had to let it go, at least a little. Or pretend.

“I just… I don't like you knowing so much I didn't tell you,” he said sullenly, holding in a biting remark.

“See,” Vos said smoothly, “You're thinking of it all wrong. Think of all the things you don't need to explain to me. Saves us a lot of time and ambiguity.”

It wasn’t what Anakin had expected him to say at all.

“Yeah…” Anakin said uncertainly, “but… it's all… weird. Like it's not… a conversation. How do we talk about things you already know?”

“We don't. As shocking as it may be, I don't need to rehash what happened while you were Vader. I know Kenobi well enough to know that if he’s forgiven you, it's because you've already been thoroughly browbeaten and forced to take responsibility for what happened.”

The younger Jedi half-considered defending him, but just smirked instead. It was true, really; few people passed judgments like Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Few people forgave the way he did either. Thinking of his distant lover, he realized that he missed him even after only a week apart. A week where they had accomplished almost nothing, thanks to his own stubborn reservations.

Vos continued, not needing a response from him.

“It's not that what you did’s okay - what I did when I was on the other side isn't okay either - but there's just nothing else to be done about it. It happened, you're sorry, we move forward. I'm more concerned with your most recent trauma and what it reopened… where you are now, emotionally. I think we both know you've got some baggage. I mean, we  _ didn't  _ rescue you in time. We tried, but no one came for you.”

_ No one came for you.  _ Anakin's stomach clenched at his choice of words - how did Vos know how to say things in the most painful way every time? Was it because he was tuned in so tightly to his frequency that he knew exactly what would get a reaction? Was he just that obvious?

_ Of course _ it had hurt that no one had come for him while he'd been Sidious’s captive. He'd only ever felt desperation like that one other time in his entire life; lying helplessly on the burning volcanic sands, he'd really believed that Obi-Wan would walk away and leave him. It hadn't been so much the thought of death that had scared him - it would have been a mercy from the excruciating pain of his injuries - as the thought of dying  _ alone _ . Obi-Wan had even _ turned away _ . Anakin still wasn't sure what had changed his heart, but there was no denying, even then, that the relief that had flooded his shocked, shaking, broken body had been one of the only things that had kept him alive. 

That relief had never come when he'd been tormented by Palpatine. He had silently called out to Obi-Wan, stretching the very limits of the bond between them, and  _ begged _ for him to save him. He'd called for Quinlan and Ahsoka, but no one had come. He had never been so alone or felt so forgotten. He had been painfully aware that he couldn't fight forever and that without help he would certainly fall; he'd been aware that the next time he saw the people he loved, there would be a lightsaber’s distance between them.

His expression darkened slightly and he looked away, thankful for the interruption of their droid server delivering their food. The pleasant, familiar burble of smalltalk as they were served gave him a moment to compose a response.

After it zipped back to the kitchen, Anakin said, “Yeah… I know you tried, though. I mean… I'm not mad.”

“Yeah… I know,” his companion acknowledged, “Doesn't mean it didn't hurt you or that you're completely over it.”

“Yeah…” 

“So that's something. And Palpatine no doubt fucked with your head, and mental stuff like that is hard to get past… Dooku really messed with me. Got in deep. Sometimes I still catch myself thinking about it and getting worked up. It's hard to let go.”

Anakin knew what Vos was doing; he was trying to bond with him through shared experiences. He knew that this was a good thing, and from Vos this level of transparency equated to absolute sincerity. If he had been trying to manipulate him, he would have employed the skill and subtlety at his disposal from years of espionage.

All the same, he had the childish feeling that he had caught him at a game. Something about that made Anakin want to lie to him and try to catch him up to keep him off-balance and unable to get a read on him. It was probably human nature to want to tuck all of his soft, vulnerable parts out of reach and then hide behind the armor of lies and sarcasm.

He forced down that unproductive impulse and tried to center himself the way Obi-Wan would have asked him to. 

“Yeah… it hasn't been long, I know… but I've had bad dreams or woken up anxious for no reason,” Anakin offered, deliberately giving him something that was true as a conscious sign of goodwill.

Vos smirked, “In fairness, there are a lot of reasons to be anxious right now… but I get you.”

They both ate a bit in silence, neither with much gusto given the quality of the food. Quinlan had become accustomed to being forever on the move, selecting the least offensive offerings at diners and cantinas and sleeping on terrible mattresses. Anakin had started to adjust, but the bulk of his life had been spent between the military and the Temple, both of which offered a certain baseline of comfort; he was still accustomed to more structure and more consistency in his days. He missed the elegantly simple, natural food served in the Jedi halls and the fortifying, hearty meals that the non-clone soldiers ate on the bigger ships. Nutrient paste and supplements were all right from time to time, and greasy diners could even be fun in moderation… but he didn't really enjoy living on the go like this. At the end of the day, he wanted home, warm food, and a warm bed with a warm person in it waiting for him.

“Just so you know… Obi-Wan  _ wanted _ to go with me to look for you. It isn't that he wanted to stay behind on Dantooine with the Padawan.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows as Quinlan continued.

“He was grounded by base medical. He would have been a liability, especially if his lung started filling up with blood in hyperspace.”

Anakin shook his head,. “It's fine. It's better, really.”

“Had to have been a shock to see him though, when you went there.”

“Not really. I can feel him wherever I go. I knew he was there as soon as we entered the atmosphere.”

“From whatever you did when he was dying?” 

“Yeah,” Anakin said with a little shrug. 

He didn't really feel like going into the specifics of the unnatural connection that he had forged between his own Force signature and Obi-Wan’s. There were a lot of things that they didn't know yet about it, and most of what they had pieced together seemed to vary between “dangerous” and “dysfunctional.” While he did eventually intend to talk to Vos about it, he didn't know yet how to do so without betraying information that Obi-Wan had specifically asked him not to share.

Feeling that his response had been a bit lacking, he added, “There's a lot we don't know about it.”

“That's a problem with a lot of this Sith stuff,” Quinlan sighed. Anakin was ready to snap back with a sharp retort when the other man continued, “Most Jedi just don’t know bantha shit about dark skills. We’d probably have to go through ruins on Korriban to find anything at all, and at this point it's probably easier to just live with it than do anything risky to undo it.”

More often than not, Vos surprised Anakin with his commentary on the Jedi. From their short time traveling together, he had ascertained that the other man had strong opinions about the Jedi’s willful ignorance of the techniques practiced by the Sith. He'd groused in small ways about how foolish it was to face an adversary blind, particularly when that adversary existed both in a tangible form and as a moral conflict within each of them. He'd likened the Jedi’s “just don't do it” approach to abstinence-only reproductive education… and everyone knew  _ that _ didn't work.

Anakin, father of two and recent defector to the dark side, sure knew it didn’t work.

Recovering, Anakin swallowed down a mouthful of some greasy combination of sticky, fried grain and tough, thin-sliced meat. 

“Yeah… I don't know if it would kill him if I tried to break the bond. And… it's not bad as it is. I can live with it, ‘damage’ is done.”

Quinlan considered that, “My only concern would be exposure, and what that connection could open either of you up to.”

Anakin already knew a bit about  _ that _ , being that he had already engineered the perfect storm of conditions to lure his lover briefly to the dark side. In retrospect, he wondered if he had done it on purpose because part of him had still wanted what he'd wanted on Mustafar: a dark-tainted Sith Obi-Wan with blazing yellow eyes and nothing to righteously hold over him. 

He stuffed another miserable mouthful into his face in lieu of speaking, and Quinlan made a quiet thinking sound.

“Sounds like you've already got some insight into that,” the Master commented casually, taking another sip of his caf before looking around the mostly-empty diner.

_ Force kriff it _ , Anakin thought,  _ How does he always know? _

“We can talk about it later,” Quinlan assured him mildly.

“Yeah?”

“Not really dinner conversation.”

Anakin laughed, relieved, and the two moved on to more suitable topics for “dinner conversation.” With the small bit of goodwill that Vos had earned from his unexpected lack of judgment, Anakin settled in to surprisingly sociable discussion of ships and spaceports he'd visited. Vos  _ was _ fun to talk to and always had been; when Anakin was less defensive or competitive, when he wasn't jealous or insecure, he did enjoy talking to him. He was full of incredibly funny anecdotes, delivered with flawless timing and a contagious laugh. 

There was still the question of Obi-Wan, though Vos had shifted the balance in that as well. Anakin didn't like that his lover had occasionally slept with the other master - and had since before Anakin had even known him - but he didn't think that he could ask him to stop. He didn't think it was happening currently, but he didn't know if that would change as their lives settled. He wasn't even sure why it mattered so much to him. He wasn't in  _ competition _ with Vos, not to Obi-Wan. He knew that to his former master, the relationships were completely different. He wouldn’t ever just run off with Vos and abandon him.

But Anakin had spent some of his most formative years living on Tattooine and growing up on popular media that romanticized human monogamy; he tended to have different views about what love was and what came with it. Obi-Wan, who had never been in a real, acknowledged relationship, had different, more fluid definitions of friendship and less orthodox ideas about about human sexuality and intimacy. Their views weren't entirely compatible and Anakin wasn't sure whose needed to change.

He also still didn't understand how his imperfect relationship and his dark-tempted master could still be the most pressing thing on his mind even when the universe was at war. Maybe it was because the universe had been at war for so much of his life that it had just become white noise.

Sitting opposite Vos, though, Anakin could see what it was that was so attractive about the other master. He was good-looking, but the bigger draw was his vitality and humor. Something about him always felt like an untold story or an adventure that was about to happen. By comparison, he felt like he was boringly straightforward; especially without the secrets he had given up, he felt like he fit a lot of cliches. “What you see is what you get” was the first to come to mind. He seemed emotional because he was, he felt powerful because he was practically the Force made human.

Still, he was enjoying Quinlan’s company for the first time on this trip and there was some relief in that. 

That night, the air in their shared room was less tense. The next morning they were off again to another distant starport where Vos “knew a guy.” The other Jedi was a decent pilot, not gifted but more than adequate, but he let Anakin take the controls most of the time and Anakin liked that.

Leaning his head back almost lazily against the worn headrest of his chair, Vos looked over at him thoughtfully.

“If you could see anyone right now, alive or dead, without any consequences, who would you pick?”

The answer to the question came so immediately that it almost took Anakin’s breath away.

_ Luke. Leia. _

Vos hadn't said anything wrong, but the thought of his children was still a complete gutpunch. Instantly, he could remember the smell of their hair and the newness of their skin, the way their little fingers gripped and how their eyes hadn't quite seen him. From his visions through his connection to Padme, he knew what they looked like now, several months older and more alert, but the easiest memories were still from the one time that Obi-Wan had helped him hold them n Polis Massa.

Quinlan didn't even know they were alive, much less that there were two of them. The lightsaber’s psychometric memory cut off around when he had choked Padme unconscious on Mustafar and left her for dead. His estranged little family remained the secret he kept closest to his heart.

“My mom, maybe. Or Padme.”

Quinlan nodded thoughtfully without looking over at him.

“It has always felt weird to me that only Jedi rejoin the Force when they die. Even if I become something new, why would I want to think that my friends wouldn't be there? I tend to think they will be.”

Anakin nodded.

“Me too.”

It seemed strange that Vos didn't bother with platitudes about death; there was no “I'm sorry for your loss.” There was no apology at all, and thinking about it, Anakin couldn't help but feel that he preferred it that way. Why should anyone except the Tuskens and destiny at large apologize for his mother's death? And why would he have held anyone other than himself responsible if Padme had actually died after he'd strangled her? It was a strange shift, and he suddenly felt as though he understood the blunt Jedi’s way of speaking much more clearly.

“Would you pick Ventress?” he asked.

Quinlan sucked in a breath, then laughed a little despite that the pain still lingered.

“Nah. I'm a different person than who I was when I loved her. I wouldn't want to be that person again… even if I do wish I could see her again to thank her for saving me.”

Anakin nodded slowly, wondering if he'd been a different person when he'd fallen in love with Padme. If he was honest, he'd probably have to admit that he'd been several different people since the lakeside on Naboo… and none since then had been a good fit or deserved the person she'd become.

“Fair,” he said aloud, “So who  _ would _ you pick?”

“I think, honestly, it would be Master Plo or Master Tholme.”

“You'll find them again in the Force,” he replied reflexively.

Quinlan grinned crookedly at him, “Yes, though hopefully not for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied with a surprised laugh, “I guess I'm not looking to check out any time soon either. Why did you ask?”

Vos shrugged his broad shoulders, “I guess I'm feeling kind of introspective. While I'm relieved -  _ grateful _ \- to have you and Kenobi, I feel an empty place where my other friends should be. Tholme’s been gone for awhile now, but I still sometimes feel like I could use his guidance. Hells, even Qui-Gon’s. Kenobi and I spent so much time together because our masters did, and I think Qui-Gon put a bit of his stamp on me too. I guess I just wish we had someone older and wiser to go go. Taking charge isn't so bad - Kenobi and I both can be a bit bossy, like it even - but it's strange being the end of the chain of command, you know?”

Anakin half-knew, but he recognized that he still saw his former master as the end of the line. Even now, he still deferred to his experience.

“Yeah… it's a lot.”

Of course, there was someone older and wiser that they could have all looked to, but that little green whatever-he-was was hiding out somewhere.  _ Self-exile my ass. _ He was avoiding the mess that he and all of the Jedi had helped cause. Or at least failed to prevent. Anakin knew that it wasn’t their fault exactly, but it was still easier sometimes to feel angry and guilty than to admit that they’d been hopelessly outmanuvered.

“You're gonna be really important in all this coming up,” Vos mused, watching Anakin’s profile. “The fact that the Jedi’s Chosen One’s still alive and siding with the Rebels is huge.”

“I'm not… I'm not really the Chosen One. I don't think anyone would even think that now.”

“Hey, the path to sainthood isn't always a straight line, Skywalker.”

“Yeah, but I'm pretty sure anyone who knew what I did would run the other way. I mean, Caleb kriffing  _ hates _ me.”

“Caleb’s fifteen and traumatized. It's a wonder he doesn't hate everyone.”

Vos sighed, turning his attention back to the reinforced glass in front of them and then the stars beyond that. He absently tapped his fingertips against the armrest.

“How are you going to handle people knowing in the future? Like, are you going to confront this or try to hide it? I mean… I'd understand either way, and we’ll all back you up. But that's something you're gonna have to decide on; we’re gonna find other Jedi and a lot of them know who you and Obi-Wan are. You two were practically the poster boys for the Republic during the Clone Wars.”

Anakin smirked at that, though not in any kind of amusement. They had been very popular with the media, both of them, and with the Republic at large. That hadn't made much difference when the propaganda machine turned its wheels and transformed General Kenobi into a wanted war criminal. Anakin was presently reported dead, ironically listed as a casualty at the Jedi Temple. If it became public knowledge that he lived, Palpatine would create a narrative for him as well.

“I don't know. I haven't thought that far. It's been a constant fight to stay alive, y’know? It's not like I've been just sitting around thinking about making friends,” he said, shrugging. He lifted a hand from the steering console to drag his cold metal fingers back through his hair.

“What about old friends?”

“Don't really have any of those to worry about.”

Quinlan groaned, “You…  _ do _ realize that we haven't just been traveling to random starports on this intersystem karking chick flick bonding montage…. don't you?”

“What?” Anakin asked blankly.

“Kriff, Anakin! We’re tracking Ahsoka, you prat!”

“What?” He repeated a little more urgently, an incredulous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“ _ Yeah! _ I told you I was going to take care of you,” Quinlan said with an answering grin.

Anakin laughed in surprised delight, his mind blithely discarding the conversation up to this -  _ Ahsoka! _ His Padawan! More than that, his  _ friend _ . 

“How close are we?” he asked brightly, feeling more genuine goodwill for Vos than he had in ages. 

“Physically… I don't know,” he admitted, “Chronologically, we’re doing really well, catching up. She was on Kittaveda III about two weeks ago.”

“That's great! Really great!” He said, still smiling broadly. 

“Yeah… I mean, I'm feeling pretty good about it. You can really move in two weeks, but so far there are patterns. I think we can continue to close the gap.”

Anakin practically bounced in his seat, even as he forcefully shoved down questions of disclosure and unconditional love. 

“Wow, that's… that's karking amazing. Why didn't you tell me?”

“We had -  _ have!  _ \- other shit to do,” he replied, though he was still smiling, “We have to recenter you, get you back to being you. Bad word choice, sorry. You are you. Who else would you be? No. We have to get you back to feeling less angry and less traumatized… and honestly, we need to figure out how to manage your attachment to Obi-Wan.”

“I'm not giving him up,” Anakin said, still too cheerful to really get annoyed.

“Did I  _ say _ that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“I know, I get it. I got your number, Skywalker.”

Anakin wondered if he really did, but it was easy enough to smile and nod through the conversation, until they lapsed into a comfortable silence. Anakin found himself wondering how this excursion would have gone for Obi-Wan and Vos, had his former master been playing the role of penitent sinner. What would Vos have said to him to put him back on the straight and narrow? And how shocked would Vos have been to know that their friend's eyes had turned that telltale yellow? Would Vos have been depressed, afraid, disappointed, angry? Would he have felt that same shameful little thrill of  _ now you know too _ that Anakin still couldn't admit to feeling?

It wasn't his secret to tell, though. Obi-Wan had specifically asked him to keep the information from Vos, and Anakin had agreed on the condition that Obi-Wan tell his friend himself. At the moment, in light of their conversation and the quiet air of openness between them, the secret felt heavy. The hope of finding Ahsoka made it manageable, but he still couldn't help but feel a little guilty. But wasn't that Obi-Wan’s fault for asking that of him?

It would be okay, he decided.

Ahsoka’s movement patterns seemed to follow logical tactics. Between his instruction and the solid supplement from Obi-Wan, she had learned strategy. Maybe that was more Obi-Wan. Was it strange that he sometimes thought of Ahsoka as  _ their _ Padawan? In any case, she was well-prepared for both long term planning and the kind of snap decisions that could save her life.  He did worry though. Togruta were distinctive, just as a species and with their individual markings. She wasn't a compact little Padawan who could don a hooded cloak and slip through a crowd unnoticed; when they'd parted ways, she had been as tall as Obi-Wan. Now, between her growing adult body and her lengthening mantrells, she would be even taller and even more striking. 

He wondered if she was beautiful now. He'd always been too preoccupied to really notice. He half-hoped that she wasn't because the galaxy could be even more dangerous for a beautiful woman.

“What was Ahsoka like when you saw her?” He asked after a moment.

Quinlan considered the question, then drew from the images he’d been filtering through their pursuit.

“Fierce. Healthy but a little skinny.”

“So she's okay?”

“Yeah. She's good,” Quinlan said with surprising kindness. 

Still thinking about the appearances of the people around them, Anakin realized that he hated how Quinlan looked now. He had always known the other Jedi to be confident and bold, with his bare arms and long, thick dreads, and the vibrant yellow tattoos on his face and arms. Now, his hair was cropped close with only short cornrow braids and he masked his distinctive tattoos with makeup. He looked tired and ordinary, like any smuggler. Not like a proud Kiffar prince or a wily Jedi spy.

He couldn't think about that, though. He instead focused on Ahsoka and after a moment he added, unprompted, “She's really important to me.”

“I know. She's one of your people.”

Quinlan knew, of course. With his psychometric insights, he had a better holistic understanding of Anakin’s relationships than Anakin may have had himself. His people. Anakin thought that seemed like a very compact, easy way to describe it. Some people were just  _ his people _ , and he would do anything and brave any storm for them. He would make any sacrifice. It wasn't that other people didn't matter; Anakin’s warped sense of self-worth would have him lay down his life for sympathetic strangers. His people, though…

“Is that a problem?” Anakin asked.

“I don't know. Is it?”

“I don't know. I mean…”

“Jedi avoid attachments like that because it's easy to be controlled by them. It's all right to care about people, it really is. It's just… in these times… when things are so dangerous… there are so many opportunities to put their safety ahead of everything else.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” Anakin said, nodding emphatically. He got it. He'd done a lot of damage to try to save Padme and the twins.

“In a different time, different world…”

“Yeah, it'd be different,” Anakin concluded quietly. A little more urgently, he added, “But… I don't… I don't know if I could stop. I mean, if it happened again.”

“Well,” Quinlan said consideringly, “You have found your peace in the Force and turned away from the dark side-”

“Vos… kriff. You know that scrape we got into on Dinzo a couple days ago? If it had come down to it, I would have leveled everyone at that bar to save you.”

Vos was momentarily silent, both at Anakin’s confession and at the revelation that he was one of Anakin’s attachments.

“And when I did that life bond with Obi-Wan, I would have died to keep him alive… but I would have also ripped a hole in the universe if I'd had to… without even meaning to! Without even karking thinking about the consequences. That's dark, isn't it?” Anakin asked a little desperately, feeling panic creeping in at the realization, “I'm still so fucked up.”

“That's…” Quinlan tried to wrap words around the idea to clothe it, “you. It's not the dark side. It's not fucked up. It's just… it's something we need to work on. Something that someone should have identified earlier and taught you to manage… instead of just fucking telling you to stop caring about people.”

Quinlan dragged his fingers back over his short braids, seeming to lose his exceptional chill for just a moment. He took a focusing breath and pushed it out in a slow, silent stream of air.

“I’m sorry we didn't help you, kid.”

It was strange to hear. It took Anakin back to that first week on Tattooine with Obi-Wan when, wounded, they'd made their confessions by the fireside. When they'd worked through Anakin’s turbulent history and they'd first realized how hurt, scared, and angry Anakin had felt for most of his life. Obi-Wan had apologized. And now, just knowing from his memories, Vos was making the same apology.

Anakin could feel that there was an expletive-laced diatribe that Vos was instead loosing into the Force like a dozen blunt, silent arrows. He knew that Vos still harbored feelings that he couldn't meditate away and couldn't completely ease by lying in Obi-Wan’s arms and talking through the night. He knew what it felt like to always have a lingering injury that nothing could heal, like a splinter in a tender part of his soul.

“It's fine. I'm going to get it.”

“I know you will. You understand it now, you’ll recognize when it's happening.”

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, still a little jittery. 

Now that Anakin knew that Vos was tracking Ahsoka, he found himself both more impatient and more willing to trust his companion. He spoke more freely, shared more deeply, and made a number of realizations about himself.

In addition to realizing that prioritizing “his people” was at the root of many of his problems, he was once again aware of that ever-present fear that acted as the underlying current through his life. It wasn’t a full-blown terror, like the jitters before a battle; it was more like an anxiety of the sort he’d often observed in Obi-Wan. The sources of their concerns and the way that they expressed it were different - a constant need for order and control in Obi-Wan’s case and a wreckless need for action for himself - but some of it was the same. He wondered if it was universal to an extent, at least for humans. Maybe it was a side effect of comprehending both mortality and the sheer size of the universe.

Either way, there were often  _ what if _ questions running through his mind. He had always been gifted with certain short-term clairvoyance, but that didn’t bring any peace when something worried him.

As they tracked across the galaxy, zigzagging as Ahsoka had, he began to open up to the other Jedi. Acknowledging that Vos was important to him had erased some of the tension between them; with that out of the way, he was a little shocked to realize how easy he was to talk to. All at once, descriptions of his time running from the clones on Naboo came tumbling out. He confessed how he’d started out being hesitant to kill his attackers, but how they had become faceless saber fodder as he’d struggled on. He hadn’t had time to unpack his feelings on the subject until he’d been trapped in nothingness in Palpatone’s custody - then the lives he’d  _ felt _ snuffed out and the desperation that had threatened to crush him came to the forefront. In the hallucinogenic black silence of the anechoic chamber he had replayed their deaths over and over.

He wiped at his eyes self-consciously, his throat tight as he described Palpatine’s casual walks through his mind, unwanted mental explorations that went deeper and deeper every time. He’d felt the dark energy ensnaring him; it wasn’t like he couldn’t feel the Sith Lord taking control of him when he couldn’t just make him believe.

He’d held on to two secrets, then just one. And he’d never lost the second. He’d never told them that-

He cut himself off, suddenly realizing that he had almost told Vos that Padme and the twins had lived. More than that, he’d almost admitted that he knew where they were. Even Obi-Wan didn’t know that he knew that his family was hidden on Alderaan.

Thankfully, Vos didn’t press. He just let Anakin stumble on through his desperation and his horror at finding that the control didn’t feel like control; it just felt like a poisonous suggestion. He hadn’t felt horrified, though he knew that he should have. It just became a foregone conclusion that when he was released, he was going to lead the 501st to kill anyone at that base. When Palpatine turned on the lights and let him see his mindless prison void, it was a surprisingly empty room. He had been weary and dirty, but whole. When his prosthetics had been reconnected, he didn’t even reach for his lightsaber to attack his captor.

Vos wanted to know how he had broken the emperor’s hold, and there was no way to explain without telling Vos that Obi-Wan had taken control of him through that new bond. He didn’t say that his lover’s eyes had turned yellow or that the dark side had briefly burned through both of them.

He felt strangled by that secret for the rest of the day. It was Obi-Wan’s secret, but felt as heavy as his own. Maybe it was the guilt he felt for his part in his lover’s temptation, or for the shame he felt finding satisfaction in knowing that the same soot dirtied his righteous former master. 

Either way, the secret felt like a wound. It also felt like a wall between himself and his temporary mentor. Where hiding his knowledge of his family’s location felt like protecting something good, this felt like he was giving the dark side a foothold.

It was less than a day later, prowling a strangely familiar market on Astarkana Starport, that Anakin made the decision to confide in Vos again. 

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he began, feeling his pulse quicken uncomfortably, “A  _ secret _ I haven’t told you…”

“Yeah?” Quinlan asked smoothly. He didn’t look at him, knowing that direct eye contact might make Anakin lose his nerve.

“It’s… I’ve wanted to tell you, but it’s not my secret.”

And there was also the fact that he was dreading Vos’s judgment; he had been imagining Quinlan’s anger and blame since they’d landed on Yavin IV and the older Jedi had seen Obi-Wan’s bruises. There was no way that this wasn’t his fault, especially in light of what a good and virtuous Jedi Obi-Wan had been; he had been the one among them who had never wavered in his dedication to the light. 

“Okay… why do you want to tell me Obi-Wan’s secret?”

Anakin groaned - of course he’d know it was about their shared companion. Who else was there? But, kriff, did he have to always know more than Anakin had said,  _ and _ to let Anakin to know he knew? He walked slightly closer, keeping his voice low.

“Because it’s my fault, I guess.”

“Does that make you feel like it’s your responsibility to tell me?”

“Yeah. He made me promise not to tell you, and I agreed as long as he would tell you himself. But I don’t think he will.”

Quinlan frowned at that.

“Okay… so… what is it?”

Anakin took another deep breath, then held it for a moment. He had an irrational burst of adrenaline, like Obi-Wan was going to materialize out of thin air just in time to catch him breaking his promise. It made his stomach hurt.

“He… ah… when we fought on Dantooine, I… he… I made him fight me. He didn’t want to. I used that life bond between us to control him and make him fight. I know, I shouldn’t have, that was totally kriffed-“

“And?”

“And he just… I don’t know. He snapped? He turned around and he turned it on me. He ripped Palpatine’s control off of me like it was nothing…”

“Okay…”

“His eyes went yellow. He was…”

“Sith. Wow, okay…” Quinlan replied, reeling at the revelation. He rapidly shuffled that information into the deck, balancing it against what he already knew. He dragged his hand back over his short braids.

“He got control over it fast… but it happened. He won’t talk about it.”

“No surprise there,” Quinlan replied dryly, “Master Perfect and all…”

He licked his full lips, then pressed the lower between his teeth uncertainly, shaking his head.

“Kriff,” he added pointlessly.

“Yeah. It’s my fault though. He’d have never done it otherwise, you know. He’s a good Jedi. A good  _ person. _ ”

Quinlan looked over at him, then pulled him over to a quieter edge of the starport’s corridor. He kept an arm about his shoulder and leaned closer so that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard; from a distance, it likely looked like something else entirely, something illegal and probably transactional.

“First, it’s not your fault. All of that is on Palpatine; you wouldn’t have done that on your own steam. It’s not even like what happened at the temple; you didn’t get to choose. So this isn’t a _ fault _ thing.”

Anakin’s cheeks reddened; he wasn’t looking for absolution. As good as it felt to hear that  _ something _ in the universe wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help but try to take some of the blame back from his lover.

“If Obi-Wan hadn’t done that, I’d still be Vader again-“

“Yeah, and a quick dip in the dark side might have been the only way. I’m not saying Obi-Wan’s a bad person for it. He tries hard, he really does. He just has shit odds every time. My point is that we’ll deal with Obi-Wan… but I don’t want you beating yourself up over this. This one’s not on you. It’s something that happened that we just need to deal-“

“How can you just say that these things happen? These things don’t happen!” Anakin whispered fiercely.

“Oh yeah? So it didn’t happen and you’re making shit up?”

“No, but-“

“It happened. There’s no way to change it and obsessing isn’t going to erase it. Hating yourself for it’s just gonna fuck up your ability to move forward and it’s gonna fuck your ability to work with the Force. So this time, just this once, let yourself off the hook.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment before he retorted, “I just should have fought harder.”

Quinlan smacked him in the back of the head.

“Seriously, shut up.”

They walked in thoughtful silence for a moment. Anakin had come to recognize when Vos was looking for something, though he hadn’t learned yet how to tell what he would choose to read. They wandered through the starport for what felt like hours, turning down alleyways and following clues that only Avis could read.

“You know, Ahsoka was with Rex when Order 66 went down. Maybe we should head back to talk to him about it.”

“I thought you had her trail,” Anakin replied suspiciously.”How is information from months ago going to help now?”

“I just feel like there’s a detail I’m missing—“

“You just want to get back to Obi-Wan.”

“No, a week or two isn’t going to make—“

He broke off when Anakin turned away from him abruptly. The younger Jedi  _ felt  _ something buzzing on his nerves, something other than the sudden mistrust of his travel companion.

At one of the trader’s stalls, a man was unrolling something from a length of animal hide. He watched as he withdrew two mud-crusted light sabers, then set them on the counter. They were filthy, with dirt and blood packed into every sculpted detail of the hilt, but Anakin would have known them anywhere.

He moved without thinking, compelled by pure emotion. 

“Where did you get those?” He demanded. 

“Bounty hunter brought ‘em in-“

His words stopped when he grabbed for his throat, which was suddenly being crushed inward by an unseen force. He clawed at his neck, eyes wide and staring at the tall blond who had one hand thrust out toward him.

“ _ Stop!”  _ Vos hissed, grabbing him and trying to drag him back to break his concentration, “It’s not-“

Anakin rolled his shoulder to throw him off, “You lied… you’ve been lying to me… you haven’t been tracking her at all!”

“You’re jumping to the wron-“

He dropped the now-unconscious trader and turned his focus on Vos, lifting him with the strength of his grip on his neck. He saw the panic in Vos’ dark eyes, then felt a flare of something dark answering the dark within himself. It startled him to know that it was still there and so near the surface.

Vos was close enough to lash out in that moment of distraction to land a hard kick to Anakin’s middle. The younger Force-user dropped him when the blow compressed his diaphragm and sent it into stunned spasm, knocking the wind out of him.

Both dropped to the ground gasping loudly for air, thankfully observed by only a handful of passers-by who made a point of looking away awkwardly.

“That -“ Vos managed between uncomfortable breaths, “is your - kriffing -  _ problem. _ You -“ he coughed painfully, “karking asshole.”

He fixed his heated brown gaze on Anakin, “It’s a setup. She sold them.”

Still panting, Anakin’s brow lifted and his vision cleared, “What?”

Vos dragged himself to his feet and leaned over the trader's counter to make sure he was still breathing, then laid his hand on the lightsabers briefly. His eyes went distant as he looked into their object memory.

He nodded to himself, then affirmed, “She sold them. Get up, you kriffing piece of bathashit. You caused enough of a scene that we’ve gotta drop this for now.”

“But-“

“ _ Move it,”  _ the Kiffar Jedi growled, grabbing him by his upper arm and hauling him upright. 

Already, they were in motion, back the way they’d come, though Anakin was still scrambling to sort through the last two minutes and his embarrassing role in them. Vos was muttering under his breath and Anakin was certain that it had to do with the bruises already blooming on his throat.

“Vos, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, sorry wouldn’t‘ve meant much if you’d killed me,” he said angrily, just loud enough for Anakin to hear, “Anakin, you need to start kriffing thinking before you just… lash out and go all yellow-eyed evil.”

“I just - I didn’t-“

“Have I done  _ literally anything _ to make you think I would lie to you?”

“No- I was-“

“ _ Stupid _ ,” Quinlan finished for him, “And so help me, I’m going to find a way to break you of acting without thinking.”

“Obi-Wan’s been trying for fifteen years,” Anakin joked weakly, surprised to find himself struggling to keep up with Vos’ long strides.

Vos spared him a look as he hailed them a street-transitor to take them back to their ship, reminding Anakin that his closeness with the other Jedi was still new and his forgiveness was not guaranteed.

They remained in a tense silence through the brief transport, and even back onto the ship. As Anakin sank shamefully into the copilot seat of the small ship, the full horror of what he’d done hit Anakin again; he had attacked a friend and ally on the grounds of a baseless assumption; he hadn’t just punched him, either. With that force grip, he could have killed him even more easily than with one of his metal fists.

“I’m really sorry,” he said quietly.

Vos pushed the end of one of his short braids out of his face, annoyed, wishing that he had his long dreads. Between his shorn head, dull clothing, and the makeup covering his tattoos, he felt nothing like himself. More exposed, like a raw nerve. His normal self would have been more patient, more able to deal with his.

He forced himself to exhale, “I know. I know. It’s… I’m going to forgive you, I really am, I just need to get us out of here…”

“I’ll get you a bacta bandage for the bruise,” Anakin offered sheepishly.

“Nope,” he replied, flicking a couple switches to engage the engines, “It hurts, but I want you to look at it and hear my scratchy-ass voice for the next few days. You can’t just brush this off. It’s gotta stick, Skywalker, be a a kriffing  _ learning experience  _ for you.”

Anakin sighed and looked out the window for a moment. Everything was a learning experience; he just didn’t learn.

They kicked off and zipped out into open space. Incrementally, the tension loosened from the older Jedi’s shoulders and the silence between them softened. As the distance between them and the scene of the crime grew, Anakin tried to unpack what had happened and what they had seen.

Vos spoke first.

“Grab me a bacta bandage. You know what you did, you don’t need your nose rubbed in it.”

His voice was hoarse and uncomfortable-sounding, but Anakin knew that Vos hadn’t changed his mind for his own physical comfort. For all his faults, Vos was always straight with him. He was also just as stubborn as Anakin; he’d have definitely tolerated pain to make a point.

Anakin nodded and got up to get one of the sealed, bacta- impregnated bandages from their triage kit. While Vos programmed in coordinates, Anakin carefully applied the gauze to his neck, aware of how vulnerable the other Jedi allowing himself to be again by letting his hands this close to his neck. 

“Ahsoka sold her sabers. She had buried them before with Rex’s armor - that memory was hard to read - but no one had found them. She needed them found so she would be believed dead. She told that trader she found it with two bodies and some clone armor,” Vos said quietly.

“Where did she go after that?” Anakin asked.

“It doesn’t matter right now. For now, we’re not following. We have a lot to work on.”

Internally, Anakin almost screamed in frustration. Even though he understood Quinlan’s logic - even though he didn’t  _ deserve  _ help - it still felt like a punishment.

“We’ll talk to Rex when we get back. I didn’t know they’d been in contact when I last saw him. He could be in contact with her still,” Vos said tiredly.

“Just… what if she needs help?”

“I’m pretty sure she knows where to get it.

Deep down, Anakin knew he was right. She was a stronger Jedi than he’d ever been, even having walked away before becoming a knight. She didn’t need him. He needed her.

And that was part of the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple things - in the world of this fic, Obi-Wan and Quinlan have been sleeping together since they were padawan, just casually as friends. Obi-Wan just sees this as something that friends do, and while he loves Quinlan deeply, he isn't in love with him. Quinlan and Obi-Wan haven't been sleeping together since Order 66, but it isn't necessarily out of the realm of possibility. Obi-Wan doesn't have the same relationship expectations or definitions as Anakin, and he wouldn't perceive a continuation of his sexual relationship with Quinlan as cheating or infidelity, especially in light of the fact that he'd been banging Quinlan longer. It made Anakin jealous before, but he logically knew that it was super hypocritical when he was married to someone else... and now it is a bigger issue to him since Obi-Wan's the only one he has. Obi-Wan is mostly oblivious that Anakin even knew before, and though it briefly came up toward the end of A Mouthful of Ash, they haven't really talked it through. 
> 
> Also, there are some references to events in the Ahsoka book (that will probably be shown in the new season of Clone Wars!), but I'm going to be diverging from that as well. 
> 
> Finally, ugh, I really hated Rise of Skywalker. I'm not going to go into it too much... but the disappointment kind of kicked me in the creative balls the same way that The Last Jedi did, which means I'm feeling a little low on Star Was enthusiasm. I am trying to psych myself up, but I can feel it's going to slow me down a bit on this fic. I have about half of the next chapter written, so send me some pep through the Force to get my butt in gear!


	3. A Skeletal Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter... sorry, it's been a rough couple months around here. I'm sure I'm not alone in struggling during this bizarre and frankly shitty span of time, and I hope you're all doing okay and staying safe. 
> 
> I was stupid when I was writing, and I jumped chapter to chapter... so the net chapter is already half-written, so hopefully the time between chapters won't be so long. Please be well and be kind to yourselves. :)

3\. The Skeletal Moon (Now)

On Yavin IV, Anakin and Obi-Wan confirmed the transmission status and quality of their probe droids. It felt really good, successful, and they celebrated in Anakin’s favorite manner, one that left them both overwarm and comfortable in each other’s arms. Anakin always felt closer to Obi-Wan after sex, like there was really nothing that could come between them.

They jokingly planned out where they would go to dress up and go on a proper date, as if they were normal sentients rather than wanted men. As they settled to catch a few hours sleep before their next surveillance check, Obi-Wan said that he loved him first. It happened rarely, so it still made Anakin giddy. Maybe someday they actually would _be_ normal sentients.

By the following morning, the base was awash with new analysts and strategists; the bustle was disruptive and excited, full of interesting whispers overhear and extrapolate in one's mind. After years of wariness and a secret identity, it made Anakin uncomfortable; he preferred to keep to the officers and the Jedi who he already knew and felt he could trust, and this was simply too many people.  A simple inquiry from Obi-Wan brought an immediate answer, though - the new probe droids had hacked deeper communication channels than they had previously been able to access. There were implications of some very large, very dangerous things being built. A few of their researchers and theorists were rapidly making connections to other Imperial projects, and some of the possibilities were horrifying.

A few transmissions had given weight to rumors of something insidious being built over Geonosis, a mobile fighter the size of a small moon. Obi-Wan’s mind ticked immediately through the kinds of weapons that a vehicle of that size could carry and how it would move in battle. It could be the ultimate travelling fortress; a blanket of large plasma cannons on the surface could obliterate any ship that came near it. Such a thing was a tactical nightmare, and even though it was unfinished he still felt his heart sinking at the implications.

He tried to console himself that it was little different in function from a Star Destroyer, only larger. However, the persistent, paranoid part of his mind demanded to know why would they need something so large, unless it was simply a fortified palace for an emperor?

“It simply doesn’t make sense to build something so large. Unless it’s for show, or to truly make Palpatine untouchable?” he reasoned aloud, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he looked at a hasty scale drawing that one of the analytical engineers had sketched on the table. He’d never seen a spherical ship before; even the TIE had those silly little waffle-bits stuck on the sides.

“No… I mean… I don’t  _ think  _ so. Palpatine isn’t that guy. He’s craftier and cockier than that. Nothing could scare him enough for him to even consider hiding out on that thing. There’s gotta be something else,” Anakin agreed.

“Well, some of the cross-referencing has been… concerning. But we’re not sure of the application yet. We have heard that it has been referred to as the ‘Death Star.’” Ackbar said, though they had already read that bit of information in the brief.

“They do like their scary names,” Obi-Wan said drily. 

“It sounds like a weapon,” Anakin said grimly.

“Well, it’s a fleet killer for sure,” Ackbar commented from his seat beside a sketching mathematician.

“So is a Star Destroyer. And for what this must cost, they could have built a fleet of fleet killers. No, there’s something else,” Obi-Wan said dismissively.

“We have been finding links between missing and recruited scientists and this location. They may be working or imprisoned there. Or both,” said Thieri, one of their better spies. 

She was a very beautiful, very bitter blue Twi’lek who was very, very good at getting information. People tended to assume that beautiful women, particularly Twi’lek, weren’t good at much beyond looking good. Going on those prejudices, she was often able to practically install herself as decor in key locations. And other times, all it took was a vapid smile and laughing at a bad joke, and foolish soldiers and generals would tell her secrets to impress her. She played dumb at lot, then laughed with her teammates. It wasn't genuine laughter, as she was frequently seething below the surface at sexism or racism, but the irony had some comedic value.

“Do we think it’s an armored research facility? And if so, for what?” Anakin asked.

“We don’t know. The scientists in question cross multiple disciplines. It could be literally anything. The only thing we really know for sure is that it’s military and it’s very, very bad news for us.”

“So what’re we gonna do about it?” Anakin asked, “If this is going to be a big kriffing problem when it’s finished, it sure seems like we should make sure it doesn’t get finished.”

“We need more information, on what it is, why it’s being built-“

“We need to blow it out of kriffing existence,” Anakin retorted, “All we  _ do _ is gather information. These people are trying to kill us, and the higher-ups are just playing games. This isn’t complicated.”

Obi-wan touched his arm, trying to center him and remind him to keep his head. At this point, his former padawan was so conditioned that he fell silent long enough for Ackbar to reply.

“I know, you’re chaffing to get out there and take some decisive action…”

Thieri interrupted, as logical as Obi-Wan and as forward as Anakin, “Think about it, Brenjam, if we attack a big target like that, it’ll get attention. They’ll say it was unprovoked, kriff, they may even lie and say we attacked a hospital or a floating orphanage. They can say it’s anything. Who even knows. And if the whole galaxy is looking at us, we’re going to want to be able to use it as a call to action… rather than a justification for the emperor. We need evidence.”

“They’ll lie regardless… and they’ll find a way around our evidence anyway. I’d rather be getting smeared than getting killed.”

“You act like one won’t lead to another. We need public opinion on our side,” she replied, staring him down calmly.

“Well then we better get our evidence fast. We can’t let this go on. Something that big…”

To Anakin’s surprise, his usually-moderate lover spoke in his support.

“Brenjam is right. It isn’t that I have any doubt about your respective proficiencies, but we have a great deal of first-hand experience with the Emperor and his readiness to commit genocide.”

“General Kenobi,” Ackbar said placatingly, his voice taking on a pedantic quality that made both Jedi feel that their ranks were just figurative, “This is also very personal for you, and as such I think it may be difficult for both of you to evaluate-“

Unexpectedly, quick color rose to Obi-Wan’s cheeks at the dismissal. 

He interrupted sharply, “Who among us knows Palestine personally? He waged two sides of a war and arranged a galaxy-wide dejarak board of alliances and conflicts right under the senate’s nose, including the very senators who are now debating if he’s ‘truly all that bad.’ Brenjam and I know our adversary and have seen his cunning and skill… if you think he would hesitate to do to your people what he did to the Jedi, you are either a fool or being intentionally obtuse.”

Ackbar straightened slightly, his facial tentacles quivering slightly. Then he said smoothly, “Either way, you know that you cannot make a strike using Rebellion resources without the approval of the council, Obi-Wan. If you do, you are acting on behalf of the Jedi and it is the Jedi who will face retaliation from the Empire.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together firmly.

“Then we will do what we have done for the last few months,” he gritted out with a weary, sharp civility, “We will gather good intelligence that will lead to further inaction.”

With that, he turned sharply and left, trying to calmly and rationally put his fury out into the Force like a good Jedi.

He realized belated that Anakin hadn’t followed him, and it momentarily surprised him out of the fog of anger. He paused and listened, then was both concerned and relieved that he couldn’t hear his partner shouting or throwing things.

He leaned against the wall to wait, knowing it wouldn’t be long, and focused on his breathing. It took a few long, measured breaths before he could feel his pulse slowing and his cheeks cooling. He couldn’t remember ever having been so quick to anger, even at the height of inertia in the Clone Wars/ As he had so many times recently, he recognized that the events of the past five years had changed him and he hated it.

More steadying breaths,  _ let it go.  _ It was hard, though, and it became harder by the day to accept how easily other people minimized the premeditated, systematic genocide of the Jedi. It ranged from pitying “you’re sensitive because of what you lost” comments to comparisons to other historic genocides to almost-justifications for the Empire. 

_ You don’t understand, _ he wanted to tell them,  _ My friends are dead and my way of life is gone. Five years ago my life was still ‘normal,' and it changed overnight. This could happen to you. And even if it couldn’t, even if you’re completely safe, _ **_it happened to us_ ** _. How can you consider me your friend and still not care? _

The anger surged again. He forced himself to relax, reminding himself that this kind of anger was the path to the dark side. And that the path to the dark side was more like a ten-step game of hopscotch than a road.

After a moment, Anakin joined him.

“You alright?” he asked.

Obi-Wan nodded, “Yes, just frustrated.”

“Yeah, well, it’s frustrating,” Anakin agreed.

“I didn’t hear you yelling at anyone after I left, so you must have controlled yourself better than I did; what did I miss?”

“I told them that we’d work on intelligence related to the Death Star… see what we could dig up that would light a fire under the council’s asses.”

“Impressive. Are they giving us any resources for this? Or is it the two of us on our own?”

“They’re giving us Thieri and a full tank of fuel,” Anakin replied with a crooked smile, shrugging one shoulder.

Obi-Wan felt a twitch of frustration, but he ignored it. Anakin noticed intuitively and draped an arm around his shorter ally’s shoulders and leaned in close.

“You need a minute? Want to talk?”

Obi-Wan didn’t shrug off the contact, but he didn’t accept the offer to talk. Instead, he turned toward him slightly and laughed, his voice soft.

“Have we traded places? Normally I’m the level-headed one.”

“Maybe I’m getting better.”

“For certain, though perhaps I am also getting worse,” Obi-Wan admitted. 

“You could be… but don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody,” Anakin assured him cheekily, grinning.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, then leaned up to kiss him surreptitiously “Mm-hm. I’m any case, good behavior looks good on you.”

Anakin laughed, blushing slightly at the praise even though he could sense that it was partly a diversion; Obi-Wan was struggling to keep his chill and wanted to distract both of them from the inconvenient darkness of his mood. Even knowing this, Anakin had always been an opportunist and he’d never object to Obi-Wan kissing him in a public place.

Anakin decided to push his luck; he slipped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer, then kissed him like something out of a romantic hololfilm.

“Maybe. But maybe I also just like this level-headed side of you,” Obi-Wan breathed, staying close to him even after Anakin released him.

Anakin had the strange realization that he didn’t really know if he liked this short-tempered side of Obi-Wan. There was a certain charm to it, and at times a smug relief, but it didn’t feel good to see his friend and lover so frustrated. 

He still grinned, though and hugged him tightly again, eager for the closeness amidst the unexpected and unsettling start to the morning. The urge to take Obi-Wan back to his room and lock themselves in until the war ended crept up again, though his rational mind didn’t even acknowledge it.

“I’m glad to hear that… but you know, I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re flattering me for a reason. What’re you up to?” Anakin only half-teased. 

“Nothing… I think I’m insulted,” Obi-Wan laughed as he pulled away to stand just a few inches away from him.

“I’m not stupid… I can tell you’re upset.”

“It’s increasingly difficult not to be,” the older Jedi said a little shortly, looking irritably back toward the room where the other generals were still talking. The tips of his ears were still slightly pink even though the angry color had cooled in his cheeks.

“I know, they’re a bunch of kriffing assholes. They don’t get it, they’re not as experienced in battle as we are… and I hate that they’re in control,” Anakin said in a rush, “I really do, I’m not just saying that. I get why you’re mad. It’s fine that you’re mad.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, his blue eyes searching Anakin’s face. He sighed as some of the tension left his shoulders, though the absence of anger just left him looking very tired. 

“It’s… it’s not even that exactly. I’m just tired of being…  _ expected _ to act like I’m fine, and that I’ve miraculously bounced back from everything that’s happened. I know you don’t expect it, you aren’t over it yourself… but there is this irritatingly callous attitude among some of the higher-ups here, as though we’re whining or being oversensitive. Like enough time has passed that we should shut up about it already,” he confessed quietly.

Anakin sighed and pulled his dearest friend closer again. He tilted his head up a little so he could rest his chin on the top of Obi-Wan’s head. 

“I know. It’s shit. It’s absolutely shit, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan relaxed slightly more and slid his arms around Anakin again. He was extremely thankful for his former Padawan; though he hadn’t forgotten the role he’d played in the downfall of their culture, there was no denying that he was atoning every day and making strides toward becoming and better and better person. If Obi-Wan was honest, some days Anakin was a much better person than he was himself. Standing so close to him and feeling the way the Force moved through and around them, he knew he could never love anyone as he loved Anakin.

He felt motivated to say so, and the words felt as though they could come very easily.

He leaned up to kiss him affectionately, then said, “You know you’re the only reason I-”

“General Kenobi… I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?” Thieri asked, a slight frown on her lovely face.

Obi-Wan hurriedly pulled back and smoothed down his robe, then shook his head, “No, not at all, Thieri. I’m sorry for my outburst earlier.”

Anakin sighed, wanting to know what the rest of that sentence would have been. Through their Force bond, he could sense that it was something he would have liked to hear, and knowing Obi-Wan he probably wouldn’t circle back around to it later. Even though Obi-Wan had pulled away, he kept his hand lightly at his back.

“It was a very civil outburst compared to what I’m used to.”

Thieri smiled, nodding to acknowledge his apology. She had mixed feelings about the fact that the two Jedi generals were obviously sleeping together, but she figured that it was really none of her business; it was hardly the strangest thing she’d seen since the fall of the Republic. She had mixed feelings about Jedi in general.

“Still.”

She flicked one of her blue lekku over her shoulder then said, “It’s nothing; tempers are high when the people in power are sitting on their thumbs.”

Obi-Wan chuckled at that, “Tempers are high most of the time by that logic.”

“I’m more than a little irritated myself,” she acknowledged with a little laugh.

“Brenjam said that we would have your expertise to look into this whole ‘Death Star’ business.”

Even though he was used to his false name, Anakin still didn’t like hearing it out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Even though the use was casual and there was no judgment attached to it, it felt like a lie when said in that credible, educated voice. Brejam Terrus, the Rebellion’s biggest lie.

“Yeah… such as it is. It’s probably more accurate to say that I get your fighting prowess than to say you’re getting my expertise. You’re both getting dragged into my own personal project,” she said unapologetically.

“And what is that?” Obi-Wan asked drily.

“Kyber crystals. I’m suspicious about the Empire’s interest in them. They’ve nearly destroyed Illum with their mining, and recently they’ve turned their sights to Jedha.”

Anakin felt the mention of Illum like a kick in the chest; he’d known intuitively that their last visit would truly be their  _ last visit _ . It made his gray blade and the dwindling bag of saber-ready crystals all the more precious. The fact that the Empire would ransack another planet for kyber, especially one that had a thriving population, made his blood boil.

“Jedha?” Obi-Wan asked, perplexed “Jedha is home to much larger crystals… far too for light sabers or other kinds of weapons like that. The crystals under the surface are enormous, practically architectural.”

“I’m aware… yet the Empire has been taking shiploads of crystal. It’s rapidly becoming very heated, especially as the Guardians of the Whills are being displaced. Or killed.”

It made both Jedi uncomfortable to hear; the existence of the guardians was reasonably new to the Jedi, but many of their beliefs were compatible with their own culture’s view of the Force. Though they had likely developed independently of one another, they could in some ways be considered “Jedi adjacent.” Most likely, it was only their sect’s lack of political clout that kept them from being exterminated by the Empire right beside them. Even so, they were fairly certain that Palpatine wouldn’t mind murdering any of the monks who got in the way.

“I wonder what their objective could be. Kyber crystal is very unstable unless it is handled by Force users,” Obi-Wan mused, feeling a slight headache forming between his eyebrows. 

He didn’t like to think about the Empire, and specifically Darth Sidious, having control of the galaxy’s supply of kyber. The thought of Storm Troopers armed with lightsabers was terrifying, even without adding in the crawly feeling of religious desecration. 

Thieri raised her eyebrows just a little. She knew that it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s intent, but he was telling her things that she already knew. She was pretty sure that it wasn’t her species or her gender; as annoying as it was, it seemed like the Jedi just thought aloud a lot.

“I’ll be honest, we don’t know a lot. Actually, let me amend that. We know a lot, we’ve actually got a veritable assload of intel, but not a lot to pull it together into anything coherent. The reason we’re going to Jedha is that some of the shipments of kyber have been going to the quadrant where this fortress is being built. That hardly seems like a coincidence.” 

“No…” Obi-Wan agreed.

“So when do we leave? And who do we know on the ground?” Anakin asked.

“There is a resistance group… a partisan group… and we’ll probably work with them a bit, but… well, it’s better not to rely too heavily on them,” she paused, then added, “Saw Gerrera is very volatile and difficult to coordinate with, and his Jedha base is very new. I’d rather steer clear as much as possible, and possibly try to make some new alliances.”

The name was uncomfortable; they knew Saw and would prefer to avoid him. In addition to the possibility of lingering ill-will toward the Jedi based on their unwillingness to actively engage in conflict on Onderon, there was a strong possibility that he might recognize the younger Jedi as Anakin Skywalker. The last thing that they needed was the traumatized, hotheaded Gerrera to expose Anakin’s true identity.

“We’re familiar with Gerrera… and we would rather avoid him, based on some unpleasant shared experiences,” Obi-Wan said vaguely but firmly.

“You have a lot of those, from what I understand,” Thieri said, a little bit of judgment creeping into her voice. 

Obi-Wan didn’t know much about her, but he was aware that there had been some hard times on Ryloth that had not been entirely alleviated by Jedi intervention. For all he knew, he and Anakin had personally failed someone she knew during the last days of the Clone Wars. For all he knew, he deserved every judgment she could unleash and his penitent nature easily accepted that.

“We do,” he agreed, not rising to the bait even though he could feel Anakin bristling. “I would prefer to see where we can get with the Guardians of the Whills, if we can make contact with them.”

“We can. I don’t know where they stand on Jedi these days, though, so no promises.”

“We’ll figure that out when we get there, I suppose. So when are we leaving?” the younger Jedi asked impatiently.

“I can be ready within half an hour,” Thieri replied readily, “Shall we meet at your ship?”

Anakin nodded, “That works, we’ll see you in then.”

After they parted ways, Obi-Wan noticed that Anakin was frowning rather fiercely, and it put a heavy crease between his brows and at the corners of his mouth. It made his companion look older and more severe, more intimidating; it brought back memories of Anakin on the battlefield and Anakin recovering from the fallout of Order 66.

Obi-Wan reached over and touched his shoulder, “It seems as though we have traded moods.”

“She’s…” Anakin paused as he chose words that wouldn’t get him smacked, “not very nice.”

“No. I get the feeling that she doesn’t particularly like Jedi, and perhaps she is more accustomed to working alone. Nonetheless, we are united by a common goal and I am certain that we will work well together.”

Anakin’s expressive eyebrows flicked upward, then he rolled his eyes outright.

“‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’ huh? 

“Something like that,” Obi-Wan laughed, “Shall we get ready to go on an adventure to Jedha?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for your kind words on A Mouthful of Ash. :) Like so many fanfic authors, I thrive on feedback; I really, really appreciate the encouragement I've received to keep working on this series. I'm also not going to lie, comments help me to keep going... so, not to hold the fic ransom or anything, but please leave me a note occasionally if you're enjoying the story.


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